Not with the lead piping . . .

If so, you’re in excellent company. Latest figures indicate that audiobooks are the fastest growing format in publishing. In 2015 the number of downloads rose by nearly thirty per cent, well over 40,000 titles were released and leading retailer Audible estimated in 2016 that its customers around the world were on track that year to listen to two billion hours worth of programming.

Two billion.

As a writer with audio books out there I see – and hear – the format’s huge popularity as aural bon mots, which is why I was more than happy to take part in a recent campaign to promote them. What you might call, spreading the spoken words.

A while back now I met my publishers to celebrate the digital recording of one of my books. BLOOD MONEY is the sixth title in the Bev Morriss crime series. Thanks to Creative Content’s Ali Muirden and Lorelei King – there are now seven Bev stories available to download.

On the same day we went along to Audible’s studios where we talked – among other things – about writing BLOOD MONEY how my writing style is influenced by my years working in TV news. The interview was recorded and is now available on-line.

So . . . audiobooks

I like to think of them as a sort of grown-ups’ version of children’s bedtime stories – with a cheeky bonus or two. For instance, they can be listened to any time and almost anywhere: in the gym, in the car, on the commute; while dusting the lounge, digging the garden, queuing in line. I’d maybe draw the line at listening while swimming the Channel.

Narrators can whisk you back a century or six or fast forward you to the next millennium; they’ll take you on a tour of Morse’s Oxford colleges, Rebus’s Edinburgh bars, Philip Marlowe’s mean streets or Sherlock Holmes’ Baker Street. The multi-talented Clare Corbett who narrates my crime novels will happily show you round Bev Morriss’ Birmingham haunts.

Seeing things

Though crime fiction’s the most popular genre in the audio market, it’s not the only one, of course. There’s literary fiction, science fiction, non-fiction, romance, chick-lit, biography, the classics and . . . you get the picture.

I’m sure you do. It’s another reason why audiobooks are so captivating. They free us to close our eyes – literally or figuratively – release our imagination and see the pictures in our head. It’s like playing a mental movie with a sensational soundtrack provided by a narrator with the vocal range equivalent of a full orchestra.

Hair-raising

To continue the analogy, the first time I heard one of my books narrated was music to my ears. Even though I’d written every word, every line, the power of the narration had me on the edge of my seat, raised hairs on the back of my neck; I laughed out loud at some of the dialogue and one bitter-sweet sequence brought tears to my eyes. If an audio book can move me, the author, like that, I’d love to know their effects on others.

So to sum up, I guess that means I’m with the late broadcaster Alistair Cooke, whose Letter from America was required listening on the BBC for nearly sixty years.

Writing rules really rile me. Nowadays it seems the world and its aunt is a literary expert, handing out gratuitous and often spurious dos and don’ts on how to write fiction, produce prose and create characters. I even came across a tweet the other day giving tips on naming characters. Strikes me if you want to be a writer and need that much help, maybe stick to the day job.

It’s not just unsolicited guidance that irks me, I find rigid grammar rules annoying as well. I’m rigorous about correct spelling and punctuation, but splitting the odd infinitive? Ending a sentence with a preposition? Beginning a sentence with a conjunction? They’re all fine in my book(s).

Errant

Unlike misspelt words, missing apostrophes and misplaced commas – split infinitives don’t change what a writer’s trying to convey, neither does a sentence that ends with a preposition. In fact sticking to the preposition rule can sound preposterous. As Winston Churchill pointed out when admonished for breaking the rule: ‘This is the type of errant pedantry up with which I will not put.’ Nor do I.

And as for not starting a sentence with a conjunction. And not writing incomplete sentences.

Or one-line paragraphs.

Or eschewing contractions.

It is daft, is it not?

But back to all the gratuitous writing advice that flows on Twitter and Facebook et al, my main gripe with the literary largess is that it assumes what works for one writer will work for all writers. The way I see it, the one-size fits all approach is not only patently wrong but – like Lassa fever – it’s something to avoid.

The whole point of writing fiction is, surely, to create a unique authorial voice, not slavishly follow other people’s well-worn blueprints of general and often inherited advice.

I get particularly tetchy when a rule starts with the word ‘never’ – as in, never do this, never do that. I’m thinking of instances like: never open a book with the weather or, never start with a prologue. Avoid overuse, sure. But, never? Personally, I think it’s a tad presumptuous on anyone’s part to lay down the literary law like that.

Seamless

Another bugbear of mine is, show don’t tell. The term’s blithely bestowed on all beginner writers but when you think about it, it’s pretty meaningless. There are times an author has to spell it out or risk confusing the reader or failing to convey essential information. I’m talking here about weaving a little seamless clarification into a scene, not spoon feeding huge chunks of exposition and/or explanation.

And then there’s the old chestnut: write about what you know. I’d be nuts to stick to that little pearl of wisdom. In my books, I kill people for a living. My villains range from murderers to kidnappers; blackmailers to serial burglars. My plots have featured prostitution and paedophilia. My latest novel – Overkill – looks at rival pimps. You get the picture. And that’s what I do – picture action sequences and create characters in my head. It’s called imagination.

Of course I also use my experience and expertise as a former TV journalist. The media features heavily in my novels but as a crime author my mantra is: write what you can find out about. And that means doing extensive research and owning a burgeoning book of contacts. Mine’s mainly full of police officers, lawyers and medicos. I talk to them when I need expert knowledge to add authenticity to my work. (I say ‘talk’, it’s more a case of badgering them with questions.)

I have other pet hates in the field of unasked for tips and unwarranted advice, but you may feel differently. Maybe you find them helpful. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Each to their own and all that. It’s just that I prefer making up my own rules and I’m definitely not in the market of foisting them on anyone else.

The way I see it a writer needs the confidence and self-belief to develop a distinctive writing style, to come up with original material and to craft it in the best way they can. And if that means breaking the rules . . . bring it on.

For me it’s about engaging the reader with an engrossing plot and entertaining characters. And for that, I keep in mind the three Cs: communicate, clarify, connect.

Cover story – part two

Daniel Raven-Clift’s the designer who creates the amazing covers for my Bev Morriss crime series. His latest – the ninth title – is Death Wish.

In a previous post I asked Dan how he creates such striking images and here he interviews me about my job as an author.

I’m a journalist as well and have to say it felt pretty weird to be on the receiving end of the questions, but Dan’s pretty good at posing them. I loved answering his queries, but (whisper it) not as much as I adore his cover-work.

DAN: Maureen, you’ve brought the character of Bev to life in nine novels now, and you must feel very close to her. What’s it like to have created such a richly complex character and have complete control over her destiny?

Great question, Dan, and you’re dead right with your conjecture that I must feel very close to Bev. After all this time I feel I know her better than some of my closest friends. I love the fact she shoots from the lip and refuses to take ordure from anyone: villains or VIPS, she tells it like it is. She can be pricklier than a cactus convention but she’s also sensitive and caring and it’s this that gives her enormous empathy with the good guys and gals.

Ironically, when I started writing Working Girls, I envisaged that Bev would very much play third fiddle to her boss, Detective Superintendent Bill Byford. I gave her a walk-on part but every time she appeared on the page and I put words into her mouth, she stole the scene. Then I got to thinking, it’s about time crime fiction had a young female cop taking the lead role. Back then they were pretty thin on the patch considering how many curmudgeonly male detectives were around invariably carrying a back story crammed with emotional baggage. Bev was an antidote to all that and though I do put her through some dark and difficult mills, I’m always cognisant of readers and listeners who’ve taken her to their hearts. If they think I’m giving her a really hard time, they let me know in nouncertain terms. It gives me a rosy glow that Bev is as real to them as she is to me.

DAN: Many people have said that your Bev Morriss novels would make a great TV series (and I concur!) Have you ever thought about who would be good at playing Bev?

Bev on the box? Wouldn’t that be great? Like zillions of other books, the series has in the past been optioned for TV but it’s currently what’s known in the trade as ‘parked’. The idea might be revived at some point in the future and that would make my day but realistically only a tiny proportion of proposed new crime series make it onto the screen.

Having said that, I can’t tell you how thrilled I was to discuss with producers our dream cast list. I’d love Jenna Coleman to play Bev. I’ve thought that since I first saw her in Dr Who. She has that essential feisty side but also real warmth and a twinkle not just in the eye but in the voice. Oh yes, and I’d like Olivia Colman to play Bev’s mum. And Adil Ray to play Oz. And Greg Wise to play Byford. And . . . you get the picture.

DAN: Your novels contain some hard-hitting and emotional issues — how do you avoid carrying those feelings over into everyday life?

You’re right about the novels dealing with some pretty grim and gritty issues. In my book – and books – crime is never cosy. Its impact on victims and the fallout on their families and friends is often devastating. I try and portray crime realistically and, therefore, seriously, but I do leaven the mix with humour mainly through the dialogue, banter between detectives that sort of thing.

Gallows humour is the clichéd way it’s described but, believe me, it happens in real life at actual crime scenes. As a TV journalist and producer I witnessed it, took part in it, and to my mind as much anything it’s a way of coping; a way of lightening the dark times. I’m sure this carries over into my crime fiction and helps give the necessary distance.

TV Production meeting back in the day

DAN: Who would you say has had the greatest influence on your work?

I suppose it depends what you mean by ‘influence’. I’ve always read voraciously and admire a huge number of authors but I guess as far as my decision to writecrime fiction goes, I guess that would be down to Ruth Rendell. I remember years ago being absolutely blown away by the first line of one of her standalone novels, A Judgement in Stone.

It goes, ‘Eunice Parchman killed the Coverdale family because she could not read or write.’ What an opening! Thirteen words – but such resonance, such power. The book was definitely one of the springboards for my crime writing career. So yes, Ruth Rendell has a lot to answer for!

On the other hand, if you mean who’s had the greatest influence on the way I write, unless it’s subliminally, I don’t think anyone has. I do know some writers won’t read books in their genre when they have a work-in-progress but I couldn’t imagine not reading. The way I see it, if an author’s developed a sufficiently distinctive ‘voice’ he or she has a style all their own and is immune from picking up anyone else’s writing traits.

DAN: In Stephen King’s Misery, Paul Sheldon enjoys a cigarette and a glass of champagne when he finishes a book. What does Maureen Carter do?

I remember finishing writing a Bev book and immediately going out to get my eyebrows threaded, but that’s so uncool. Have to say that apart from breathing a huge sigh of relief, I mostly catch up with friends over a glass or three of Prosecco. What I definitely DON’T do is drive to Los Angeles through the mountains in a snowstorm.

And be careful what you wish for . . . the trailer for Death Wish

Never judge a book by its cover?

Why not? Given how many books are out there and how many more are issued each year – I think we all need help choosing what to read next. In the UK alone 184,000 new and revised titles were published in 2013. In such a massive market, books need a little help, too.

If a novel’s to be noticed, it needs to stand out from the literary crowd and what better way than with a cover that shouts: READ ME?

I’m fortunate to have a designer whose work does exactly that. Daniel Raven-Clift of HCT Creative is the man who created all the cover images for my DS Bev Morriss crime series and okay I’m biased, but I think they’re brilliant: striking, enticing, teasing classy and most important – they convey the quintessence of the story.

I happen to know that Dan likes my work too, and my clever publishers at Creative Content came up with the brilliant idea that he and I interview each other to discover the other side of the cover story.

Here, I put the questions – Dan’s turn in the next post.

If, as they say, a picture paints a thousand words then a book cover has to encapsulate getting on for a hundred thousand! It’s quite a task. How do you set about it?

Dan: It really depends on the design brief from the publisher. Sometimes I’ll be given specific direction, other times I’ll have a completely blank canvas to work with. If the latter, I’ll usually ask for a summary of the plot and I’ll also have the manuscript to refer to when I’m thinking of ideas. I prefer to keep things simple and, for a novel, I like the cover image to be something that’s both literal and symbolic.

For Death Wish I knew I wanted to have a long braid of hair, which features in the book, but I also wanted to get across a sense of isolation and vulnerability, themes I felt were a strong thread throughout the story. And I really liked the idea of using an image that perhaps isn’t quite what it seems at first glance; to me this felt representative of the series, and maybe even Bev herself.

I usually ‘see’ a cover in my head as I write a novel but I have to admit it wasn’t the case with Death Wish. The plot has so many strands I couldn’t picture a single striking image that ‘said it all’. I love what you produced, Dan, but do you find some covers more difficult to design than others?

Dan: Thank you, Maureen! And yes, some are more difficult. A while ago I designed the covers for some classic titles and these were surprisingly challenging. Partly because I had preconceived ideas about the books themselves which, of course, had an immediate influence on my ideas, but also I couldn’t resist heading to Google to see what other designers had done in the past. This was both useful and daunting at the same time! With a book like Heart of Darkness that’s had countless jacket designs over the years, to think of something completely different didn’t make it the easiest job ever. Hopefully readers enjoyed my efforts!

Are there differences between designing covers for stand-alone novels and those for a series of books?

Dan: Yes, there’s a bit more freedom with a stand-alone book in terms of the general layout of the cover. For something with a series or author style, there will be certain things that have a set look and feel. Like with Bev Morriss series, we always have the title and your name in the same typeface and size, and I work within those constraints so the series has a cohesive feel to it.

Having said that, with Death Wish the publisher and I decided to give the cover a slightly updated look. I think this is important as you have to be mindful of trends and look to see what the general flavour is for book jackets of a particular genre. I think even with some quite subtle changes we’ve given Death Wish a fresh look, but it still feels part of the family.

Does it help when you’re designing if you like the story?!

Dan Yes, it does make the process more enjoyable! I did a cover for a book of short stories – Gracious Lies by Hilda Lolly – which I really enjoyed, so much so that I thought it would be fun to have individual designs for each story.

We ended up using these in the book as an introduction to each one. For the book’s cover I wanted to reflect both the style of the writing and the mood of the stories in one, so the wonderful Carol Kemp did the hand lettering for the title which was all flowing and lovely, and then I made it look like it had sprouted some sinister looking thorns.

Authors are often asked if they have a favourite book they wish they’d written. Is there a book ‘out there’ you’d really like to have designed the cover for?

As writing advice goes – it doesn’t get much pithier.

It’s even shorter than the original version which said, ‘murder your darlings’. The quote’s often attributed to William Faulkner or Stephen King, but it actually came from the pen of the English writer Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch.

The irony is, of course, that the more an author loves a darling, the less likely she is to recognise one. Not when literary sweethearts are sentences, passages, even entire scenes of which she’s most proud.

But as we know, they’re also phrases, description, lines of dialogue that are just a tad too clever, a gnat’s too self-indulgent, even a smidgeon pretentious. The author loves all those precious little literary ones but they add nothing to the narrative.

Far from developing the story, they distract from the action. As with cooks and broth, too many darlings spoil the plot.

Let’s face it no one can write a book that will please every reader. But surely a good place to start is with writing that the author really likes a lot? I’d rather produce a page of over-indulged darlings which I can then work on than face a page of words that whisper not-so sweet nothings in my ear. To my way of thinking, a screen filled with purple prose beats the pedestrian shrinking-violet kind any day.

I have to say I’m feeling this way because I’ve just spent well over a week writing the opening sequence of my next novel and on Sunday I reluctantly came to the conclusion that it just wasn’t working. The words didn’t leap off the page they limped along weak lines. The writing didn’t scintillate and it certainly didn’t sing – it had lost its voice. Like me. Temporarily, I’d lost my author’s voice. (I was battling a sore throat and heavy cold as well but that’s another story.)

There is a saving grace though.

Having written fourteen crime novels, I knew that forcing it and continuing to try and make the sequence work would be like flogging a dead horse. As with the horse, it was beyond saving.

Much as it pains me to admit, the prose was so lifeless there was only one place for it: the writing equivalent of the knacker’s yard.

For the first time, I scrapped the entire opening of a novel and started completely afresh. I doubt I’d have taken that course ten, even five, years ago but with fifteen years’ fiction writing experience (and twenty more in journalism) I had – and still have – no doubt that it was the right write thing to do.

The prose was just plain ordinary and I recognised that fact just as those years spent writing help me recognise the darlings I produce. I certainly know which I prefer to kill: the padding plodding prose deserves to die; the darlings at least have potential. Deft sharp editing can give new life.

Of course in a crime writer’s life ‘killing darlings’ often takes on a new meaning. Some readers still berate me for dispatching one of my lead detectives to the grand interview room in the sky.

And that, too, is another story. . .

And I’m delighted to say – so is this . . .

It’s my fourteenth novel and the ninth in my DS Bev Morriss series. It came out just last month and I so hope you like it – darling.

Words for all seasons . . .

… or how this beautiful oak tree helps me chart how close I am to a writing deadline.

You see my study’s on the third floor, my desk’s situated in front of a picture window and the tree pretty much dominates the view.

I generally start work on a new book in the autumn and when I look out the oak’s leaves are just beginning to turn. I see every shade of russet under the sun – when I’m not catching odd glimpses through seasonal mists of mellow fruitfulness.

As the leaves slowly and steadily fall, I’m writing the opening chapters – laying hooks, planting plot seeds, introducing characters. In as far as an author embarking on a novel can be, I’m fairly chilled and laid back.

When there’s a chill wind outside, the leaves have all but gone, the branches nearly bare. At this point, I know I should be about a third of the way through the story. If my output’s not on track, I might begin to feel the first faint stirrings of unease.

Those feelings increase considerably if the word count’s still down when the first snow falls and the tree forms part of a winter not-so wonderland. If I’m not halfway to the finishing post, I know I need to speed up or risk not hitting the deadline.

That’s easier said than done, of course. As we know, writing isn’t like building a wall or knitting a scarf. It’s impossible – or should be – to create and sustain a fictional world to order.

Even so, I plough on and I’d love to say that when the tree’s first pale green buds begin to show, my fresh ideas have started to shoot and the creative juices are flowing. I’d love to say that. But it wouldn’t be true. It would be fanciful and wishful thinking. There are times when the words just don’t come. Or at least they do, but not the right ones and not necessarily in the right order. In fact, I feel that in some ways the more I write the harder the challenge is of doing it well.

It’s then when experience kicks in. I recall that there’s always a phase when I fear this is the book I won’t be able to finish, that the narrative strands just won’t weave together. I have to remind myself how many books I’ve written. That no one said – heaven forbid – that it would be easy. That it takes persistence, professionalism and faith. ‘Keep your nerve’ an editor told me years ago and it’s probably the best writing advice I’ve ever been given.

So what do I do? I work through the doubts. I keep my head down, my bum on the seat, my fingers on the keyboard. I work later into the evenings and every weekend if need be. I might spend a little less time looking through the window . . .

Then suddenly it’s summer time and I look up and the tree’s not only in full magnificent leaf but I have a completed script under my author’s belt.

Winter, spring, summer and fall – you could say I have a writing buddy.

. . . the stand-up comedian who writes seriously good crime fiction?

No it’s not a joke. And this time it’s not the sublime Mark Billingham. The new funny man on the crime writing block is Caimh McDonnell whose first novel – A Man With One Of Those Faces – is published early next month. It’s so good, I still find it hard to believe he’s not written a book before.

Caimh’s already firmly established on the British comedy circuit as the ‘white-haired Irishman whose name no one can pronounce ’ and I reckon he stands to become equally well known as a crime writer.

I think his work’s original, innovative, intelligent and in places laugh out loud funny. The book deserves to be noticed, but it’s a crowded market out there which is why I’m spreading the word.

I first came across Caimh eight or so years ago during the research for one of my Bev Morriss crime novels. He was on the bill at a comedy night in Birmingham and afterwards I talked to him about his life in stand-up. I doubt either of us had any idea that evening that nearly a decade on, I’d interview him again about his role as a crime writer.

So Caimh, what’s a nice stand-up comedian like you doing working in the murky world of crime fiction?

I think in some ways, it is a natural fit. By the nature of the job as a comedian, you’re working nights and you’re travelling through city centres in the wee small hours. You end up being a night person by necessity so you perhaps see more flashes of the darker side of life than somebody in a regular day job. Besides, you can’t spend as much time staring at the two remaining sandwiches in a motorway services at 2AM without contemplating homicide.

Also, there are rumours Mark Billingham got himself a swimming pool and now half the comedians in the country have started working on their crime novel.

Why choose the crime genre?

In all seriousness, it kind of chose me. A few years ago, I had an idea for a novel that I tried to write and I couldn’t get it to work. I decided that although I’d written a lot of scripts, I didn’t have the prose writing skill set I needed, so I signed up to do a Masters in Creative Writing at Manchester Met University. I then decided to spend a year concentrating on short stories. I’m always a bit surprised when I see articles giving people advice on writing their first novel that more authors don’t suggest writing a load of short stories first. You don’t train for a marathon by running a marathon, you start doing 5ks, then 10ks etc.

After writing several other stories, I started working on one about a guy whose job was visiting dementia patients in hospital and pretending to be who they wanted him to be. It was a nice idea but it lacked an inciting incident. I was about to scrap it when I hit on the twist of one of the patients trying to kill whoever they thought he was. This threw up way more questions than could be answered in a short story and A Man with One of Those Faces was born.

How does your ‘night job’ in comedy feed into the writing?

To give you an odd analogy, good NFL quarterbacks are said to have a clock in their heads that tells them when they have to get rid of the ball or else they’ll get crushed by an avalanche of humanity; comedians have something similar. It goes off in your head and tells you that you’ve not said something funny or engaging in a certain period of time and you’d better or you’ll start losing the audience. I think that carries over to writing. Comedians and writers understand you engage your audience or you die.

I think combining humour and crime fiction is notoriously difficult to pull off. I also think you do it exceptionally well. Do you find blending the two difficult to achieve?

Thank you! To be honest, the humour side sort of happens naturally, I don’t over-think it. If you give me a start and an end of a scene the route my mind goes down will be humour-based by default. Where I have to be careful is making sure the funny doesn’t over-ride the plot. I’ve read a lot of crime fiction that contained humour and sometimes where it goes wrong is when the comedy takes control. The plot and the characters are the most important things – you can’t compromise them for a gag. I was lucky enough to get the brilliant Scott Pack as my editor. His big note was to let the darkness be dark. In my final scene for example, during the editing process I removed pretty much all the comedy because, while they worked as jokes in their own right, they were compromising the dramatic integrity of the scene.

I found myself laughing out loud at some of the wonderful lines in the book. Do you laugh as you write them or when you read them back?

I think first and foremost I try and entertain myself because if you’re enjoying it then odds are your reader will too. My wife is my first reader on everything. I have heard her laughing and ran into the room to check which bit it was.

I’m not into spoilers, suffice to say it’s a great story with lots of twists and cliff-hangers; lots of what I call ‘flipping the signposts’ and definitely no spoon-feeding the reader. Tell me, did you work from a detailed outline or write by the seat of your pants!

I’m a mixture of pantser and plotter. With A Man With once I really realised it was a novel, I had the ending in my head fairly early on but I didn’t know how to get there. I also initially intended it to be two main characters going on this journey but then a third one turned up and literally refused to leave.

I’m now becoming more of a plotter. It’s a gradual process, though. I’m a big believer in worrying about just trying to get better bit by bit.

I love the book’s pace and flow – there’s no padding or verbiage – I get the impression you edit with a finely-honed scalpel? Do you edit as you go along or write several drafts?

I typically do what every writing book tells you not to. I start every day’s writing by re-reading and editing the work from the day before. It seems to get my head in the space I need to be in. I then do several drafts – I’ll often give myself the task of cutting 10% from every chapter. If I can’t, that’s fine – what’s important is trying. I’m also really lucky, my wife is a former non-fiction editor and my other first-reader is Clare Campbell-Collins who is a brilliant playwright. Between them, they really kick me into shape so by the time it gets to my editor Scott, there’s less kicking for him to do!

The prose has real rhythm and the dialogue sings off the page – I’m guessing you read your work out loud at the end of each writing session?

I actually don’t. I think because I’m used to delivering things out loud, my internal monologue sort of automatically performs, if that makes sense. Having said that, I do want to read stuff out more. I did a book reading to an audience as part of my Masters and that really helped. I now try and read things aloud when I’m editing so I can feel the rhythm.

I love the characters. How did you come up with such an original bunch of individuals? Do you ‘see’ them in your head/base them on people you know?

Absolutely, my three main characters are Frankenstein’s monsters made out of bits of people I know. I want to care about my main characters and I want the reader to hopefully feel the same about them.

My work and the brilliant Mark Billingham’s are very different in tone, but the one thing they both have in common is that if you’re a really obsessive comedy fan, you can have a fun game of comedy bingo spotting the names of circuit comedians scattered throughout.

I was delighted to learn the leading characters will feature again in your next book. Did you always see A Man With as the start of a series?

Not initially. I started writing the story and then the characters came to life for me and at the end, I just didn’t want to leave them. I’ve also spent a lot of my career developing various sitcom projects, some of which came pretty close to getting made. I’ve been waiting for an awful long time to write a second episode and I’m loving the chance to go back to the same characters again and again.

I’ve nearly finished the follow-up, The Day That Never Comes, and after that, I think there’s going to be a prequel and a third book to complete what I’m provisionally calling The Dublin Trilogy. After that, it is going somewhere that I think is pretty unusual for an on-going crime fiction series but I’m keeping that to myself for the moment.

A Man With . . . is your first crime novel yet you’ve already developed what I think is a really distinctive authorial ‘voice’ – how did you manage that? Again, I’m guessing you read a lot so you know what’s out there and what works and doesn’t work?

I read a fair bit but I also spend an awful lot of time in a car on my own travelling to gigs, so Audible is a big part of my consumption. Then, when I get home it’s late and I’m too full of caffeine to sleep, so I consume an awful lot of TV crime drama. That comes through really clearly in the novel as I made one of my main characters a huge crime fiction geek. That means she often tries to figure out what to do next by referencing things she has seen in ‘fiction’. It’s a fun way of wearing my fandom on my character’s sleeve while at the same time, hopefully giving the whole thing a twist the reader won’t have seen before.

Okay before we wrap this up describe a typical day at the Caimh McDonnell type-face.

My entire day runs on a frankly alarming amount of Diet Pepsi. I wrote A Man with One of Those Faces in the university library but people between the ages of 18 and 22 are way too full of hormones to whisper properly, so I have since moved. Lord knows who has taken over my shushing duties. I’m now part of a co-op office in Manchester, which is ace. I’m always trying to refine my writing process so I’m moving from 2,000 words a day to trying to hit 3,000. It can be a long day but nothing feels better than heading back home after hitting my word count.

And for once, he’s not joking . . .

You can find out more about Caimh’s double life here: http://whitehairedirishman.com/